


Tad Carruthers vs The Supermarket Self-Checkout Machine

by kiiouex



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Drabble, M/M, POV Second Person, Second-Hand Embarrassment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-08-20 09:33:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8244509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiiouex/pseuds/kiiouex
Summary: ‘Please,’ his machine pleads, more to you than him at this point. ‘Place item in bagging area.’





	

**Author's Note:**

> I stuck this up on tumblr a while ago and I've lost it completely, so I'm gonna stick it here for safe keeping :V
> 
> (I was meant to write Tadam as a gift for tk but I just wrote this dumb thing instead WHOOPS)

You are just standing in line at the supermarket, waiting to buy the one toothbrush you have picked out, when you notice the Aglionby boy at the central self-checkout machine. He is suffering. ‘Please place item in the bagging area,’ the machine requests. The Aglionby boy, item clutched in hand, continues trying to scan something else. ‘Please,’ the machine insists, ‘place item in the bagging area.’

‘Piece of shit,’ the Aglionby boy grumbles, glancing around, checking for either witnesses or someone who might help him. The people using the machines to either side of him keep their heads down, and the self-service attendant has fled to flirt with one of the cashiers. The line is made up of you, just you, standing very neatly in place. For a second, the Aglionby boy locks eyes with you, and you can see the shame burning through his cheeks. He looks away first, bottle of sports drink still wrapped tight in his sweaty hand, and not placed in the bagging area.

The woman at the machine to the left of him walks briskly away, and you slide into her place, scanning your toothbrush cleanly. You place it on the weight sensor by the plastic bags, not wasteful enough to put it in one, and feed the machine your carefully calculated coins. It takes you less than a minute to buy your one item, and you know it has taken around five minutes for Aglionby Boy to try and buy two.

‘Please,’ his machine pleads, more to you than him at this point. ‘Place item in bagging area.’ The smooth, inflectionless tone is more plaintive than you ever imagined it could be.

Your shoulders sag with foregone conclusion, and you know you’re not going to be thanked for this, but you turn away from the supermarket doors, away from sunlight and the warm air of the parking lot, and you approach. “Hey,” you say.

He acts like you didn’t lock eyes two minutes ago, and like you didn’t see raw, desperate frustration on his face. He retreats under a well-honed visage of contemptuous indifference and says, “Look at this piece of junk. They must make them in China. Barely operational.”

You nod kindly, and point to the pressure sensor. “It won’t continue until you put the bottle down there.”

“But I don’t want a bag,” the Aglionby boy says, vaguely affronted.

“Please,” the machine says, entreaty crawling through its speakers.

You try not to empathise too much with the checkout as you shrug and repeat yourself. “You don’t have to put it _in_ a bag. You just need to put it in the bagging area. Down there.” You point again, helpfully.

Aglionby Boy eyes the pressure sensor and, with great reluctance, places his bottle in the bagging area. The machine says nothing, finally appeased. “Well,” he says, as the little graphic of an item being placed in the bagging area clears from the screen and he’s invited to scan his chocolate bar. He considers for a moment, and then says it again, “ _Well_ ,” like it’s the most ridiculous and convoluted system he’s ever been forced to engage with. “Who even designed this?”

You linger for a moment, correctly guessing that after scanning his Moro Gold he will hold onto it and start attempting to pay. The machine’s voice sounds again, as agelessly tired as a machine can be. “You need to put that down, too,” you tell him.

“ _Honestly_ ,” he says, like it’s an imposition, and then reconsiders his stance with a quick, “I knew that.”

You still wait to witness him actually put the chocolate bar down next to the bottle. When the checkout believes him ready continue, you point to the button to pay – the large one, labelled ‘pay now’, that he was squinting and trying to find – and tell him, “Press that. And follow the instructions.” You are not confident in him actually managing to pay in a timely manner, but you don’t want to stick around to help an Aglionby boy rub hundred dollar bills against a four dollar purchase, so you take your leave. He doesn’t thank you, but you didn’t expect him to.

You have to stop outside the store to tie your shoelace, and are honestly surprised that the Aglionby boy manages to exit by the time you’re done. He strides confidently to an overpolished car, and a very small piece of your soul dies when you see his two items hanging in a plastic bag from his hand. At least you’re done with him now.

You’re only halfway across the parking lot when you hear the familiar sound of a car stalling. You freeze in place, and you can’t bring yourself to turn around.

“Hey,” a voice calls out, a brassy, undeservedly confident voice that not five minutes ago was arguing with a mechanical cashier. “Hey! Checkout boy!”

You are not going to get thanked for this.

**Author's Note:**

> ngl those machines never work for me _and it's not my fault_

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] tad carruthers vs the supermarket self-checkout machine](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8665498) by [Annapods](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annapods/pseuds/Annapods)




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